Stories From the Battle Front
by autobotgirl12328
Summary: Each bot struggles with war. Suffering and death follows each of them as they travel, linking their lives for eternity. Variety of one-shots and stories from the war.
1. Prime Rising

Prime Rising

Orion Pax didn't know what to think. He had not expected the drastic change in Megatronus, now calling himself Megatron. What surprised himself even more was the shocking amount of respect the council gave him upon hearing his request to change the way things are run. They called him a Prime. His body shuttered at the thought of such a title, which had not been given out since before his creation. Such an honor, was a above him. He did not deserve it.

Orion stepped down into the tunnels beneath the city, finding himself traveling deeper and deeper within Cybertron. These tunnels, marked by ions of dust and destruction, were once the passages thought to lead to Cybertron's core, the heart of Primus. No one had seen it or at least told of it. Rumors and legends of course rang out across Cybetronian history, echoing the lost world beneath the surface.

With each step, Orion felt a cringe in his system. Such hallowed halls and he was traveling through them for the first time in centuries, him a lowly clerk. He sighed, looking around. Darkness and shadows, dancing along the walls of the tunnel system. Eventually, he stumbled in the darkness, slipping down and tumbling down the hall.

He lifted himself, glancing up.

"By the All Spark," panted Orion, sitting up.

It was the Core. All the stories, legends, rumors, they were all true! He sat before it, the heart of Cybertron. He kneeled, feeling the power and pulsing. It felt wrong, broken, sick. Megatron, Orion thought with a sigh. He had poisoned the Core, in hopes of ruling the planet in return for the cure. That was why he was here after all, to help, to heal. There had to chance.

"Primus, I am sorry for the wrong done to you…" whispered Orion. "If only I could heal your pain."

A light shone from the center of the Core, glittering outward. It stretched across the gap, shining Orion in a glowing spot light. He lifted his head, feeling the presence of something higher. It lifted him up, pulling him in. The softest whisper was growing louder, more defined.

"Orion Pax…" it echoed.

"Primus?" gasped Orion.

"You…are worthy…"

The Core opened, releasing something from its center. Orion felt his chest open, revealing a pocket for something. The object from the Core's center turned from its light form into the legendary Matrix. Orion felt awestruck. The Matrix, which he had only heard from legend, was bestowed upon those worthy of the title Prime. He was truly worthy?

He felt the Matrix merge with his system. It was like a pulse through him, beating with his spark. Everything changed as thoughts raced through his processor. Memories, history, knowledge. This is what it meant to be a Prime.

His feet touched down on land. Without thinking otherwise, he returned to the surface. Megatron had not killed the Core, but simply gave it a means of fighting back. Due to Megatron's action, he had successfully given Orion the title that he wanted most. Prime. The name Orion Pax was gone, along with the meek clerk of Iaon. He more now, though he had not asked for it. He was a leader, though he would prefer it had not been over an army. He was Optimus Prime, the last Prime of Cybertron.


	2. Rules are Meant to Be Broken

Rules are meant to be broken

Ultra Magnus didn't understand why his old friend refused to follow his orders. Of course, Hot Rod had always been a foolish and excitable bot. At a time like this, however, Ultra Magnus did not tolerate Hot Rod's "leap before you look" actions. With the war at a point like this, going out alone like Hot Rod had a tendency to do was asking for death. Ultra Magnus would enjoy it if he could leave Hot Rod to face the consequences of ignoring the rules but he feared that might lead to the off lining of the poor fool.

"Hot Rod!" called Ultra Magnus, transforming.

He was on the edges of Autobot territory, in a small city once known as Altihex. Once a scientific city, Ultra Magnus knew many Autobots who had left this as their home. It stood, but barely. The destruction, from the battle earlier that week, had been devastating and disastrous. Magnus had not been at the battle of Altihex, as he had been preoccupied with other battle plans and assisting Optimus with directing the troops.

"Hot Rod!" Ultra Magnus repeated.

Gun fire. Ultra Magnus perked, taking off toward the source of the battle. Decepticons were known to wander these parts, though they occasionally bumped into Autobot patrols, which led to the small skirmishes that boarder cities were known for. Ultra Magnus tip toed around the destruction, peering around building to get a view of the battle. Three Cons. Two bots. Ultra Magnus groaned. Hot Rod had brought Springer on this trip apparently. Activating weapons, Ultra Magnus double checked the rules of battle in his head before rushing order the corner.

"Delta formation!" Ultra Magnus instructed.

"Took you long enough," replied Hot Rod with a grin, leaping over the commander. "I was just telling Springer here that you would never leave us out in the middle of nowhere!"

"You were the one who wandered out into the middle of nowhere!" argued Ultra Magnus, firing a covering shot at the Con towering behind Hot Rod. "Watch your back! I thought I told you Delta formation!"

"Is that the one with the diversion or the flank?" mumbled Hot Rod, jumping onto the nearby ledge.

"Get a room you two," chuckled Springer.

"I'm not letting you get off on this either, Springer. Last I checked, you were supposed to be working on the detailing of project Victory," snapped Ultra Magnus.

"Well, isn't that great," shrugged Springer.

Ultra Magnus wasn't going to lie. He enjoyed these two. They were closest things to friends he had. He knew Hot Rod before the war, had been introduced to Springer after. Together, they had formed a team worth Prime's observation. These poor Decepticons didn't know who they were dealing with. One had already fallen back, terrified and obviously new to the thought of fighting Autobots. The other two were more than ready to fight to the last of their spark.

"Ultra Magnus, watch out!" called Springer.

Ultra Magnus had failed to follow protocol, forgetting to watch the left side during battle. Hot Rod fired once, knocking the Con back while Springer battled the Con hand-to-hand. Ultra Magnus and Hot Rod were left with the final Con. With the two of them working together, the Con had little chance. He stumbled back, falling victim to Hot Rod's final shot. Ultra Magnus towered over the fallen Con, watching his optics flicker.

"Springer!" shouted Hot Rod.

Ultra Magnus spun around, watching Hot Rod slam the second Decepticon into the wall. Springer collapsed, relinquishing Energon onto the ground. His optics flickered a moment then went black. Ultra Magnus snarled, stepping up behind Hot Rod. The young Autobot, optics narrowed, pounded against the Decepticon.

"You sick, twisted…Decepticon!" shouted Hot Rod, throwing the Con onto the gorund.

"Hot Rod," instructed Ultra Magnus. "We can take him back for questioning. He might hold valuable information on the Decepticon's plans."

"I don't care! He snuffed Springer," snarled Hot Rod, kneeling down. "I wanna see his spark!"

Ultra Magnus' optics widened, taking a step back. Hot Rod gasped, looking down at the Decepticon's hand that stabbed through his chest. Ultra Magnus screamed as Hot Rod fell back. He fired, killing the Con instantly. Hot Rod whimpered, holding his side. Ultra Magnus kneeled beside him, lifting his head.

"Hot Rod, stay with me," sighed Ultra Magnus. He placed a finger to his head. "This is Ultra Magnus to Theta Base, requesting ground bridge."

"Ultra Magnus…" groaned Hot Rod, grinning lightly.

"Don't move," ordered Ultra Magnus. "They're sending a ground bridge."

He heard the whirl of the ground bridge behind him, feeling its force and energy. He lifted Hot Rod, walking toward the ground bridge. He felt the Energon leaking onto his arms, coating his armor. He glanced back, spotting Springer in the rumble. He would come back for him. The light consumed him, spitting him out into the base.

"I need medical!" Ultra Magnus shouted.

Medics rushed in, taking Hot Rod from his arms. He pointed back toward the bridge, instructing them to retrieve Springer's body. He stood in place, watching everything move around him. Protocol. He needed to follow protocol with this, regardless of his emotions. He sighed, walking away. Things would work out. So long he followed the rules. Follow protocol. Straying from the rules led to things like this, death and destruction. It was inevitable.


	3. Medical Experience

Medical Experience

Ratchet took a walk down the hall. He didn't always work as a doctor but now he was one of the fastest medics around. While it was probably something he should've been proud of, it left a guilty sting upon his spark. He had seen bots with limbs torn off, sparks practically ripped out of their chambers, optics scooped out, the list went on. Over time, Ratchet simply grew used to the strange repairs he was forced to preform.

"I never thought I'd become a medic," scoffed Ratchet, shaking his head. "I don't think…I can keep this up."

Ratchet turned into his office, cleaning up the pile of patient files that had begun forming. Too many names, faces and problems. He would be moving again sometime soon, wherever he was needed. In times like these, he was needed everywhere. He sighed, slumping into his chair, rubbing his optics. Too long. It felt like he hadn't recharged in a long time.

"Ratchet, are you in?"

Ratchet reached over, clicking the intercom system. First Aid appeared on the screen, going over some of his own notes. He looked up, realizing Ratchet had actually picked up. Ratchet groaned, listening to First Aid give a detailed report from the other patients. More damages. More dead. This wasn't supposed to happen. How could this have happened?

"Also," First Aid finished. "You've got a meeting request. It starts in a few cycles, if you're interested."

"Who with?" perked Ratchet.

"Didn't say. It was put in by command. It's probably another report to the leaders," shrugged First Aid.

"A few cycles? Which board room?" sighed Ratchet, standing up.

"C," answered First Aid, shutting the communication off.

Ratchet marched away, moving toward the board room in question. He had some of his files with him, checking over them as he entered the board room. He shut the door behind him, not looking up as he took a seat.

"You would be Ratchet, yes?"

Ratchet perked, lowering the data file. He looked over at the bot standing across from him, dropping the data file onto the table. Optimus Prime tilted his head slightly, watching Ratchet leap from his char and salute.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," gasped Ratchet.

"No need for formality, Ratchet," instructed Optimus, shaking his head. "I wanted to talk to you about your position as a medical officer."

"I've got data files on my last few patients," offered Ratchet, fumbling for the fallen pad.

"That is not what I am interested in talking about, though I am sure your expertise is more than sufficient for those under your care," nodded Optimus.

"If this isn't about the patient records, sir, might I ask what you are here to discuss?" mumbled Ratchet.

"I am assembling a team to be under my command. Thus far I have many bots who I wish to join me, but first I would prefer to have a medic before acquiring soldiers," Optimus explained.

"You are asking me to join your elite?" gasped Ratchet. "I am nothing special. First Aid alone could-"

"I am well aware of First Aid's strengths but I have seen your skills. I would ask that you and you alone would join my team as my medical officer," offered Optimus, holding out a hand.

Ratchet gulped, looking between Optimus' face and his outstretched had. Rumors had been spreading about the commander forming a private team. Rumors included the Wreckers, even. Wreckers weren't known for their ability to follow orders, even if those orders came from Optimus.

"I am honored," whispered Ratchet, taking Optimus' outstretched hand. "I will do my best."

"That is all I ask," nodded Optimus.


	4. Guard Duty

Guard Duty

Smokescreen grinned, watching all the other recruits lining up for graduation. It had finally happened. He was going to graduate from the Elite Guard Academy and become an official Autobot soldier. He could hardly contain his excitement. The officers approached quickly, giving the all clear and their quick speeches before finally releasing everyone. Smokescreen cheered, jumping up as everyone broke off into separate groups and lines.

"Finally!" he shouted. "One step closer to join Prime's team."

"Smokescreen!"

Smokescreen tripped on his celebration, stumbling to remain standing. He spun on his heels, saluting the approaching officer. Contain excitement, Smokescreen thought, contain. The officer saluted back, allowing Smokescreen to relax and smile again. The officer, one of Smokescreen's former teachers, did not seem as amused as Smokescreen did.

"I can't believe I'm saying this cadet, but you did it. You've official graduated," sighed the officer. "And you have your first assignment."

"Really?" gasped Smokescreen. He stopped before celebrating again, moving back into a serious appearance. "Yes, sir? Where am I being sent, sir?"

"Don't get too excited, soldier," grinned the officer, handing over a file. "You've got guard detail."

"Guard detail?" whimpered Smokescreen, taking the file. "Of who?"

"Alpha Trion, one of the few remaining councilmen," instructed the officer, turning away. "Good luck. You better get going soon."

"Yes, sir," sighed Smokescreen, watching the officer leave. "Guard detail? Seriously?"

He marched out, transforming once he was out of sight of the celebrating recruits. The road to Alpha Trion, who was held up in the remains of an Iacon remnants building, was covered in destruction repairs and the few civilians left on Cybertron. Smokescreen used to live in this neighborhood, before enlisting. Many of his friends had already joined the war, and more than a few had lost their lives. It made Smokescreen shiver.

He transformed, stepping up the door of the makeshift home of Alpha Trion. He knocked twice, rocked on his heels a moment, and knocked a third time just to be sure. The door swung open. Smokescreen felt a hand grab him by his chest-plate, pulling him into the room. He tumbled forward, front flipping, and landing on his back. He groaned, opening one optic. Alpha Trion quickly shut the door, turning to face Smokescreen.

"Who are you?" he gasped.

"Smokescreen," the recruit groaned, rolling over. "The Elite Guard sent me to…guard you." He pointed to his logo on the side of his armor.

"Elite Guard?" mumbled Alpha Trion, rubbing his beard. "You are the cadet I asked for? You seem very young?"

"Young but well trained," instructed Smokescreen, getting to his feet. He jumped into a saluting position. "I'm here to serve you."

"Well, enough of this military whatnot," grumbled Alpha Trion, storming passed him. "I don't appreciate those kinds of nonsense."

"Yes, sir," whimpered Smokescreen, following Alpha Trion into the main room. "Whoa…"

The room was lined with shelves and pedistals. Smokescreen couldn't help but grin. He knew Alpha Trion worked in ancient tech and whatnot from the golden ages, along with some left over Decepticon trash that got claimed during battle. Smokescreen had only heard rumors of these artifacts, seeing them in person was beyond mind blowing.

"You work with all of these?" grinned Smokescreen.

"You will be assisting me," instructed Alpha Trion, resting in a desk chair. "I will give you instructs you must follow, understood? No rule is to be overlooked."

"Yes, sir," nodded Smokescreen.

"You seem like such a bright young boy," chuckled Alpha Trion. "Shame you have to be stuck here but trust me this is safer than any battle front."

"I'm not worried about safety, sir," cheered Smokescreen. "I enlisted! I wanna fight some Cons."

"Such eagerness," smiled Alpha Trion. "I envy your excitement. I wish I could send you away as you wish but I require the guard. Fetch me this artifact, will you?"

Alpha Trion handed Smokescreen a file entitled Skyboom Shield. Smokescreen glanced up at Alpha Trion, who was already back to work, constructing a pod like object. He shrugged, wandering into the field of shelves, searching for the title card listed on some of the objects.


	5. Brushing Shoulders

Brushing shoulders

Arcee didn't like the off days. They felt wrong, like something big waiting to happen. It made her spark twist and turn until she could hardly think straight or move. Luckily, Tailgate was much more relaxed on off days, though not the most talkative of bunches. He did enjoy a nice cold sip of Energon on days like these though, Arcee thought with a grin. It would be nice to join him in the Rec Room with the others.

The war hadn't been going long but the destruction and death that had fallen in just this short time had been a deep blow to the entire planet. Arcee had seen family, friends, teachers, gone into battle to never return. Her entire life had fallen apart around her. The only normal piece left were these moments she had with Tailgate. Opening the door to the Rec Room, she put on a grin, getting all the fighting and war out of her head before going to talk to her partner.

"Sorry, escuse me…"

Another bot had stumbled into her, careful not completely knock her down. He grinned, patting her on the back and straightening up. Arcee rolled her optics, stepping around the red lug. He spun around, offering a hand to shake. She grinned lightly, shaking it. Autobots were friendly most days, at least the newbies were or those pretending this war won't last a lifetime.

"Cliffjumper."

"Arcee."

They each nodded and parted ways. Arcee moved through the crowd, finding Tailgate seated at the bar. He was in his usual seat, ordering a second drink upon spotting Arcee a short walk away. He chuckled, leaning on the counter as Arcee sat beside him. She rested her chin on one hand, looking up at him.

"What'd I do this time?" he chuckled.

"What was that pass at the Ruins?" snapped Arcee, laughing lightly. "Did you even check the area for Decepticon reinforcements?"

"I checked," shrugged Tailgate. "It's not my fault those slimy creeps are as dark as the shadows."

"Nice excuse," shrugged Arcee, accepting her drink from the tender. "Do you ever think about where we would be right now if the war had never started?"

"I think I'd still be getting a drink right about now," grinned Tailgate, downing his drink. "You'd probably being doing something classer, huh?"

"I don't know about that," mumbled Arcee. "It's not like my life has always been going according to plan."

"Everyone has it a bit rougher now, but it just gives us a reason to band together, right?"

Arcee sighed, thinking back to her life before the war but most of it proved boring and not worth remembering. She could easily remember the battles she'd been in though and how close things had gotten. She knew Tailgate had always had her back. Partners to the end, she thought with a grin.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Tailgate puttered.

"What would I do without you," she whispered.

"Seriously?" gasped Tailgate. "Don't get all sentimental on me now! We're just partners, not spark mates."

The two of them laughed, listening to their own laughter putter out into an awkward silence. Arcee sighed, looking out at the laughter and enjoyment of those around them. It was almost like the war didn't exist outside these walls. But it did. Her spark was getting twitchy again. Tailgate knew it, downing his final drink.

"Let's go for a drive," he suggested, getting from his seat. "This place is getting a little too…predictable for me."

"Right," she nodded, following him out.


End file.
